


To Xalte Wit Mi

by bog_witch



Category: The Expanse (TV), The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: First Time, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 02:57:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10562286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bog_witch/pseuds/bog_witch
Summary: Miller and Diogo share an apartment, then a bed. Shameless smut.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Show-verse, mostly. It's best not to think too hard about where this fits into the timeline.

Miller can’t sleep.

Some of that is the shit he sees every time he closes his eyes – Julie’s body naked and decomposing in a hotel shower, everything that went down on Eros, Holden losing it after Miller did what had to be done on Thoth Station – but that part he’s pretty used to at this point. Mostly, he’s just fucking freezing.

The heating system has to be malfunctioning in this sector, or something, and there’s only a thin blanket between Miller and the cold metal floor of Diogo’s shoebox apartment. The place doesn’t even have the carpet or plastic veneer you’d find in an equivalent shithole on Ceres. It’s like trying to sleep on a sheet of ice.

Above and beside him Diogo shifts in his sleep, the bed frame creaking as he moves. “Oye, Miller,” he mumbles. Not asleep at all, then. “You gonna freeze down there, beratna. Come up here, yeah?”

Miller wonders, not for the first time, how he got here – from a steady paycheck on Ceres all the way down to the point where sharing a narrow bunk with a teenaged rock hopper is his best option for the night – but fuck it, he’s too cold for that. “Yeah, okay,” he says, and he can see Diogo’s wide, bright smile even in the dark.

The kid sleeps shirtless, of course, and his body gives off heat like a reactor about to explode. Miller can’t help but settle in real close to him, though some of that is due to the lack of space. Diogo doesn’t seem to mind. He’s still grinning, and it makes Miller uncomfortable in ways he doesn’t want to think about. He settles for turning his back on Diogo, and doesn’t complain when the kid wraps an arm around his waist. If he’s honest with himself (which he isn’t, usually) it’s actually kind of nice.

It becomes routine. They take whatever work they can find, they go out drinking when they can afford it, and at the end of the day they settle into Diogo’s bed together, close enough to touch. Miller doesn’t sleep on the floor anymore, and they don’t bother hot-bunking even when they’re working opposite shifts.

Diogo’s young, and he’s tactile, and pushing limits comes as naturally to him as breathing, so Miller isn’t exactly surprised when, on the third or fourth night, he feels Diogo’s warm fingers slip under his shirt and settle against his stomach. He isn’t even particularly surprised when he feels Diogo’s erection digging into his lower back – hell, he remembers being that young (barely), remembers being hard and ready to go practically all the damn time – but that, at least, he feels he needs to comment on.

“Put that thing away, will you?” he says, trying his best to sound annoyed instead of – well, whatever he’s actually feeling. “I’m trying to sleep here.”

Diogo doesn’t say anything, just laughs, grabs Miller’s shoulder and pushes him onto his back. Before Miller has time to respond the kid his on top of him, straddling his hips and kissing him like he wants to suck the oxygen from his lungs.

“Hey, hey,” Miller says once he’s managed to push Diogo away. “You don’t want to do this.” He’s using his cop voice now, the same tone he used to use with drunks or sex workers who thought they could fuck their way out of getting arrested.

“Don’t tell me what I want, pampaw,” Diogo says, and kisses him again.

Miller tries really, really hard not to be okay with this. Whatever reasons he might have had – professional ethics, personal loyalties – are long gone, though, and Diogo is warm and beautiful and enthusiastic and Miller can’t find it in him to object. Diogo is a force of nature, all youthful eagerness, writhing hips and sloppy, unpracticed kisses. Miller couldn’t get him to slow down even if he tried. When Miller finally gets a hand on his dick, hot and hard through his threadbare shorts, Diogo gasps and moans like it’s the best thing that ever happened to him. Any lingering doubts Miller might have had disappear immediately. Hell, maybe this had been Diogo’s plan all along, and he’d just been trying to work up the nerve to make a move. It’s hard to believe, but here they are.

They end up with Diogo on his back, Miller kissing and sucking and biting his way down his body. The kid’s making the most amazing noises – loud and uninhibited, like it hasn’t even occurred to him to try to be quiet. Diogo’s not self-aware enough to fake something like that, and even if he were, he wouldn’t do it for Miller’s benefit. Miller wants more of it, so he pulls Diogo’s boxers down and takes his dick into his mouth.

Diogo curses and bucks his hips, shoving his dick deeper down Miller’s throat than he was ready for, just yet. It’s uncomfortable bordering on painful, and also, for some reason, incredibly fucking arousing. Miller is too old to be turned on by inexperience, but here he is anyway, blowing a teenager and grinding into the mattress as he does it.

He goes as slow as he can, holding Diogo’s hips to keep him from thrusting into his mouth the way he clearly wants to. Not that he minds having his mouth fucked, if he’s in the right mood, but if this is the kid’s first time – and it has to be, the way he’s reacting – it should probably last more than thirty seconds. He tries to make it good, too, using every trick he remembers from back when he used to do this more often. He relaxes his throat so he can take Diogo in nice and deep – “ _Fuck_ , Miller,” Diogo says, before dissolving into incoherent moans again – flattens his tongue and runs it along the underside of Diogo’s dick as he moves. Cupping Diogo’s balls and gently squeezing them in his palm earns him another gasp. Feeling a bit bolder, he brushes his fingers over Diogo’s perineum, and then further back – and that’s what does it. At the first slight touch at his hole, Diogo shouts and comes down Miller’s throat without warning.

“Sorry,” Diogo says, once he’s caught his breath enough to talk. He actually sounds _embarrassed_ , which has to be a first. Miller’s never known Diogo to be anything but arrogant.

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles. His dick is hard as a rock, and nothing would make him happier right now than flipping Diogo over and fucking him into the mattress, but he’s not expecting anything. He’s no saint, but he’s not the type to take advantage, either. He’ll just wait for the kid to fall asleep then go finish himself off in the bathroom – and maybe clean some of the spit and jizz off his chin, while he’s at it.

Diogo, it turns out, has other ideas. He pulls Miller down onto him, wraps his legs around his waist and kisses him with the same brazen eagerness he had before Miller sucked him off. He’s even getting hard again – and it’s been what, two minutes? Miller had forgotten that was even _possible_.

It’s ridiculous that he’s still dressed, with Diogo naked underneath him, grinding up onto his clothed cock, but he can’t bring himself to break the kiss long enough to do anything about it. Diogo’s sloppy and unpracticed, but his lips are soft and he responds so beautifully to everything Miller does, with pure, honest _want_ unburdened by anything more complicated.

Diogo pulls away just long enough to reach under the bed and hand Miller a bottle of lube. It’s half-empty, he notices – and the thought of Diogo fingering himself, alone in this bed, sends a jolt straight to his cock. Fuck, he wants this. It’s been so long.

He strips out of his clothes and lubes up two of his fingers, before pulling one of Diogo’s knees up to his chest and gently circling his hole.

“Knew to wanya my ass,” Diogo says, and there’s a nervous tremor in his voice. His jaw clenches when Miller pushes one finger in, but he covers that up with a cocky grin that makes Miller want to either fuck him senseless or get him as far away from this place as possible.

Thing is, only one of those is really an option right now.

He takes his time getting Diogo ready, opening him up one finger at a time until the kid is writhing, practically fucking himself on Miller’s hand. His erection, which had flagged a bit at the initial intrusion, returns in full force and when Miller’s fingers touch his prostate for the first time he cries out and grabs the base of his dick, squeezing tightly.

“Come _on_ ,” Diogo whines, and Miller figures he’s strained the kid’s patience enough. Diogo whimpers when he pulls his fingers out, and watches intently as he slicks himself up, eyes wide with nerves or arousal or both. He starts to turn himself over, but Miller stops him with one hand on his hip.

“Stay like this, for now,” he says as he positions himself between Diogo’s legs. It might be easier with Diogo on his hands and knees, but there’s something about fucking face-to-face – and it doesn’t hurt that he’s prettier than most of the women Miller’s been with, never mind the men. He’s just Miller’s type: dark eyes, high cheekbones and –

He stops that train of thought before it gets to its inevitable destination. It’s easy enough to stop thinking once he starts pushing into Diogo, so slowly it almost feels like punishment. He’s so tight, even after the time Miller spent stretching him out.

“You all right?” he asks Diogo.

“Invincible, me,” Diogo responds, with the same cocky grin. It’s all the same to him, getting fucked or raiding a station and nearly being shot to death – it’s all just one big adventure. The kid’s pupils are blown wide, eyes dark like he’s high on the latest party drug. Miller kisses him – tangles a hand in his hair and kisses him hard and deep, the way he would if he really meant it – and thrusts his hips forward.

Diogo breaks their kiss to hiss in pain, but he also arches against Miller, throws his head back and meets him thrust for thrust. Pretty soon he’s demanding it harder, cursing at Miller in at least three different dialects, and Miller kisses him again, this time just to shut him up. When Diogo tilts his hips up, taking Miller’s dick as deep at it will go, it takes all of Miller’s control not to just start pounding into him. It’s impossibly, absurdly good; the kind of pure, uncomplicated pleasure that Miller knows he doesn’t deserve.

Diogo reaches for his own dick but Miller swats his hand away, wraps his fingers around him and jerks him in time with his thrusts. It only takes a few strokes, and then he’s coming all over his stomach and chest, eyes closed and mouth open like something out of a porno. His back arches, his whole body tensing, and that’s all Miller can take. His orgasm hits him like a high-G burn, forcing the air out of his lungs and driving him down onto the bed and deeper into Diogo as he rides it out.

There isn’t enough room on the bed for them to lie shoulder-to-shoulder, so he rolls onto his side instead. Diogo doesn’t move except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and Miller watches him, waiting for him to come to his senses when the endorphin rush wears off. He hopes it doesn’t end with him sleeping on the floor again. His back and his knees feel like shit, and he’s starting to feel the cold again.

Diogo looks at him through half-lidded eyes. “Not bad for an old man,” he says, sounding blissful and sleepy.

“Not too bad for a first-timer, either,” Miller shoots back, but there’s no edge to it.

Diogo shifts over so his back is against Miller’s chest, slick with sweat. They’re both absolutely filthy - Diogo more so than Miller, though that isn’t saying much – and Miller would do something about that, except that exhaustion has settled deep in his bones and he’s not sure he could move if he tried. He rests a hand on Diogo’s hip and buries his face in his hair, breathing in the stink of sweat and sex and recycled air. He falls asleep like that, eventually, to the sound of Diogo’s quiet snoring, his mind as empty as the void.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I have ever written, in any fandom, and the first story I've written for any kind of public consumption in over a decade. I can't remember the last time I was this nervous about something. I hope it isn't terrible.


End file.
